It bought me rank;—it bought me power;—
It bought me Pleasure's fleeting flower,
And many a plaything of an hour:
Ah, me! 'twas little worth!
It could not buy that being fair,
The vision with the shining hair;
No! far from me her low sweet lay
Young Joy was warbling all the day,
While! o'er half the earth
Went wandering for her looks of light.
At length I wearied of the sight
Of palace-halls. I dream'd one night
Of her who gave me birth.
It bought me Pleasure's fleeting flower,
And many a plaything of an hour:
Ah, me! 'twas little worth!
It could not buy that being fair,
The vision with the shining hair;
No! far from me her low sweet lay
Young Joy was warbling all the day,
While! o'er half the earth
Went wandering for her looks of light.
At length I wearied of the sight
Of palace-halls. I dream'd one night
Of her who gave me birth.
And coldly on the morrow-morn,
With sorrow in my soul and scorn,
I sought the glen where I was born,—
How holy seem'd the air!
The wild-flower with its early glow
Still lightly laced the lattice low;
Still sang the rill;—the forest trees
Bent as of old beneath the breeze,
And all was free and fair.
The Zephyr with its breath of balm,
The sunshine smiling soft and calm,
With sorrow in my soul and scorn,
I sought the glen where I was born,—
How holy seem'd the air!
The wild-flower with its early glow
Still lightly laced the lattice low;
Still sang the rill;—the forest trees
Bent as of old beneath the breeze,
And all was free and fair.
The Zephyr with its breath of balm,
The sunshine smiling soft and calm,
